Heartstrong
by alittlewhos-this
Summary: Jimmy's concerns overwhelm.


The thorn of panic, which had never really left him after its initial prick, was pushing deeper into his flesh and the blood continued to pool until it threatened to drown him. Jimmy's fingers tapped onto his chest, in a steady line of one after the other, pace steadily increasing.

A loveless existence had been his for years and the fact of it had grown over him as smoothly as his skin, yet now the second-skin bubbled and warped with the sudden heat of another's heart. It frightened him.

Love had been a thing his mother said to him; on occasion, he could ease himself with the knowledge that she very well might have loved him even if she knew that he fouled her word by kissing the lips of the man who said it to him know. Yet then the doubt would fester and spoil the thought. He'd imagine her looking at him with disgust and it made him him choke with sorrow.

He sat up in bed and grabbed his cigarettes, smoking two in quick succession while he tried to quiet the thoughts his brain threatened with. He thought of the pleasant burning swell of smoke in his lungs, of the feeling of the cool air on his bared skin.

He hated that Thomas loved him; the fact of it seemed inescapable and it frightened him terribly. More now than it ever had. He couldn't carry on as they were, he realised. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

In a sweep, he stood up and walked over to Thomas's room as quietly as he could manage. He opened the door and went inside. He had to say it before Thomas woke up, had to wake him up with the knowledge. He couldn't see that face so pure with love before he broke his heart. He stood over him for a moment, watching him sleep. Yes, Jimmy thought, let him think this is a bloody nightmare.

"Thomas," he blurted out, seeing Thomas stir. "I can't do this."

Thomas ran his hand over his eyes for a moment, rolling onto his back to stare at Jimmy. "Jimmy?" He asked, voice thick with sleep. He hadn't heard him and Jimmy spoke up again quickly.

"I can't do this."

At that, the dreams fell away from Thomas's eyes and he sat up, looking frightened more than a player in some tragedy. "What?"

"I can't do this, Thomas. I can't -" he choked out, shaking his head and backing away from the bed as he spoke. "'We could go to gaol and for bloody what? There's no point."

"We can- we can make each other happy."

"But you don't make me happy," he said, his voice cracking. Thomas's face guttered in the most horrific way and Jimmy backed himself up against the door. It was stupid, just bloody awful - it was a lie and not a lie. Thomas made him happy he was being held and kissed, but as soon as he was freed of Thomas's arms and lips, Jimmy was sent into a grotesque panic that made the pleasure seem hardly worth the time.

Rather than any grand hysterics, Thomas just said, "Oh," and Jimmy wanted suddenly to take him in his arms. He wanted to tell Thomas that it wasn't him, it was only everything else.

"I'm so frightened, all of the time," he said instead. "The whole world can't be wrong. We shouldn't - shouldn't have done this." He hated himself for being so weak. It oughtn't to have mattered.

"It's not the whole world, Jimmy," Thomas rejoined, his voice shaky. "Don't - don't let them bring you down. It's not the whole world."

"It's enough of it," he bit out. He hated that Thomas didn't seem to care, that he could so easily damn the consequences while Jimmy could barely breathe for terror.

Thomas had risen from the bed and was approaching him tentatively, which Jimmy reacted to only when they were face-to-face

"Don't - don't touch me," he gasped, frantically shrugging off the touch Thomas hadn't yet given him. Thomas recoiled from him as though burned, taking a step back. "There's just no bloody point, is there? I don't want to - to do this."

"Jimmy, please - "

"Don't. Just stop. I can't - " and his throat tightened and he brought his hands over his eyes, pressing the heels against them. He'd not cried in years, not since his mum had died. It felt like years' worth of sorrow burst forth and he wept, slipping to the floor. Thomas reached for him again and Jimmy knocked his hand away forcefully. "I shouldn't have done any of this."

He sat, wracked with sobs until he was certain that all of his tears had dried up. He lifted his head to see Thomas kneeling on the floor in front him. "How'd I ever let you - "

"I didn't make you do anything," Thomas interrupted, voice strained. He wore an expression Jimmy couldn't read, but it was one that made his heart ache. "You'll never be happy if you're afraid. Not even just down to this. Everything."

Jimmy gave a series of small nods. He was right. Of course he was right.

"Can I touch you now?"

Jimmy made to speak, but could feel the catch in his throat; he nodded once more. Thomas gathered him tightly in his arms, gently pressing Jimmy's head face into the crook of his neck. Jimmy wanted to be held - in anyone's arms but Thomas's, but Thomas was the only one left who would do such a thing and that reignited his harsh sobs, though no tears fell.

Thomas's fingers stroked his hair while his other arm held him about the ribs with enough force to nearly hurt.

"I'm so bloody scared, Thomas. I love you so much and I shouldn't. I shouldn't."

It had been the first time Jimmy had said that he loved Thomas, and, upon saying it, he realised the truth of it more fully. He couldn't be apart from him. He had to be with him - always, he thought madly, and his sobs redoubled.

"I don't know you can help a thing like that," Thomas said quietly. He pressed a kiss into Jimmy's hair. "I'm sorry it's so bad for you."

"It's bad for both of us. You've got to put up with me."

Thomas gave a hollow little laugh that shook through both their bodies. "I like to put up with you."

- because they loved one another. Because they fit so perfectly together in body and spirit that it made Jimmy feel like he was losing himself. He inhaled a shaky breath lifted his head up to look at Thomas.

"I love you, Thomas. We love each other. That's all there should be," he said weakly. He wanted to believe it, but there was still that nagging thorn in his chest that bespoke shame and guilt. Yet it was easier to forget the pain of it when Thomas wore such a beautifully soft look in his eyes, a look which was only for Jimmy.

"You've got the idea," Thomas said, a sort of smile playing over his lips. "I know it's hard, but you've got to fight. Maybe that's the wrong way to put it," he amended, tapping his fingers against Jimmy's chest. Jimmy felt a wave of old guilt rise up. "But I'll fight for you there, as well. I'll do anything I can for you."

"I know. That makes me feel worse," he said, pulling away from Thomas. He sat down, pressing his back against the door again. "I just wish we could be happy."

"We can be happy. We just have to want it more. You have to want to," Thomas said. He moved towards Jimmy and sat down beside him. Gingerly, he took his hand.

"Yes," Jimmy agreed. He was starting to retrieve the pieces of himself that had so shattered upon entering Thomas's room.

"You do want to?" Thomas asked, turning his head to look at him. Jimmy nodded, but doubted he had the follow-through in him. He couldn't leave it like this, couldn't keep hurting Thomas.

"I don't know I can. Like this."

A silence fell between them for a moment and Thomas withdrew his hand, which made something in Jimmy burn and wither. He swallowed hard, something of his pride and fear, and said, "I don't know I can be without you, neither."

"We can't be together if it's like this. I don't want to make you unhappy any more," Thomas said. He sounded distant and when Jimmy looked at him, he was staring intently out the window.

The idea that Thomas was broaching an ending - offering it, perhaps, as a way that could have been an easy out to Jimmy - sent lead into his stomach. There was a part of him that said, Yes, you will forget he loves you. Then the more honest part spoke, Even so, you'll love him every day that you see him. And at least when they were together, he had one person on his side.

"You're the only one that makes me happy. Being two against the rest is what makes me unhappy. All the same, I'd rather be two than one."

Thomas finally turned to him, looking tired and cautiously optimistic. "I wish I knew what you were about."

"Can't I just be about you?"

"I suppose," Thomas sighed, bringing his lips to Jimmy's temple. "While you need to be."

Jimmy reached his hand into Thomas's hair and pulled him into a proper kiss, desperate and soft. He needed Thomas - he did. He needed his wit, his cleverness, his lips, his body, his strength. Most of all, both as match to his own and as substitute where his own grew weak, he needed Thomas's heart.


End file.
